


Deputy Derek And The Parking Lot Vandal

by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl)



Series: Tumblr Fic [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek Hale, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/werewolvesandarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anonymous tip was called into the sheriff’s station, complaining about some delinquent vandalizing a car at the high school. Derek’s only been a deputy for two weeks, but it’s already apparent that Stilinski (and Parrish, that asshole) finds some kind of sick pleasure in sending Derek out on these silly calls. Parrish claims that as the rookie, it’s only right to send Derek out. Derek just thinks that Stiles obviously got his annoying sense of humor from his father. And it shows all too much now that he sees the elder Stilinski on a daily basis. Regardless of his boss’s motives, he doesn’t have much of a choice. Which is why he’s currently creeping up the road in front of the dark high school parking lot in the cruiser he shares with Parrish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deputy Derek And The Parking Lot Vandal

**Author's Note:**

> 79\. Totally saw you spray paint the principals car and you’ll have to buy me dinner to keep me quiet. 
> 
> For the lovely [Alex](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com)  
> Also posted on my tumblr.

An anonymous tip was called into the sheriff’s station, complaining about some delinquent vandalizing a car at the high school. Derek’s only been a deputy for two weeks, but it’s already apparent that Stilinski (and Parrish, that asshole) finds some kind of sick pleasure in sending Derek out on these silly calls. Parrish claims that as the rookie, it’s only right to send Derek out. Derek just thinks that Stiles obviously got his annoying sense of humor from his father. And it shows all too much now that he sees the elder Stilinski on a daily basis. Regardless of his boss’s motives, he doesn’t have much of a choice. Which is why he’s currently creeping up the road in front of the dark high school parking lot in the cruiser he shares with Parrish.

He spots the car in question, and is pleased to hear a heartbeat (an oddly familiar one at that) still hovering near it. In an attempt to catch the vandal red handed, he parks the car and kills the engine, stepping out silently. The wind is working against him, he can’t catch a scent, but he’s still able to stalk noiselessly across the lot. The hiss of aerosol spray and the sharp tang of fresh paint flood his senses.

**HARRIS SUCKS**  is sprayed across the back window in garish green. Derek shakes his head. That guy always was a dick. He pulls his flashlight from his belt and steps around the car, shining the light directly into the suspect’s eyes.

“Fuck, shit!” A familiar voice hisses, as the person falls back and crab walks away from Derek and the light. Derek doesn’t even  _try_  to hold back his groan of frustration as he flicks off the light and returns it to his belt.

“Want to explain to me why the son of the sheriff and current sophomore in college is vandalizing the car of his high school science teacher?” He drawls, crossing his arms across his chest. He thinks he probably looks quite intimidating, he even has a gun goddammit, but Stiles (because of fucking course it’s Stiles) doesn’t smell afraid. No, he just smells like ink and paper, a medicinal tang that Derek attributes to Adderall and the low level arousal that always seems to cling to him. It’s not like Derek has  _thought_  about what Stiles smells like or anything okay? He just notices these things. It’s his job. As a werewolf and as a cop. Obviously.

“Heyyyyy big guy,” Stiles smirks up at him from where he landed on his ass on the pavement. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that’s stretched tight across his shoulder and around his arms. Derek hates that he’s  _noticed_  Stiles growing up and filling out. Hates that sometimes he thinks about mole dotted skin and plush pink lips and big, strong hands when he’s falling asleep at night. “Why don’t you just turn right around and walk that fine ass back to your cruiser huh?” And that’s the other thing. College seems to have helped Stiles find the self-confidence he was missing as a awkward teenager. Now he openly hits on Derek, which he admittedly kind of likes. He just can’t tell if Stiles is joking or not.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you vandalizing Harris’s car?” Stiles actually has the nerve to  _pout_  at him, putting on the puppy dog eyes and pushing out his lips. Derek resolutely does  _not_  think about all the things he wants to do to those lips, and keeps his expression carefully impassive. He’s the  _king_  of repressing emotions. When Stiles doesn’t answer he raises his brows and takes a step closer, flexing his arms slightly as he glares down at him (what? Don’t judge). He counts it as a victory when Stiles’ heart skips a few beats, even though the kid still doesn’t look the least bit intimidated. In fact, the way he’s leaning back on his hands with his long legs splayed is quite the opposite of fear. It’s downright obscene.

“He’s failing Liam!” Stiles blurts out, suddenly scrambling to his feet. “Harris somehow  _knows_ we’re friends and he’s taking out his hatred for me on my son!” Derek gives him a flat look.

“Your son? Really?”

“Hey man, you know that Scott and I raised him as our own!”

Derek manages to hold in his groan this time. He’s more concerned about the fact that he’s attracted to someone who refers to a kid two years his junior as his son.

“So instead of helping him study, you sprayed profanities onto Harris’s car?” Derek gestures to the giant  **FUCK YOU ASSHOLE** painted in white across the passenger side. Stiles shrugs a little guiltily, looking up at Derek through his lashes. Which is just rude, really. No one should be subjected to eyes like that.

“Lydia tutors him twice a week over Skype already,” he says, like it’s an adequate excuse for spray painting a car.

“So your best idea was to come home from school to break the law in a town where your father’s the sheriff?” Derek resists the urge to bang his head on something. How can Stiles even justify this to himself?

“Well I got to see you, didn’t I?” Stiles smirks at him, and Derek is eternally grateful that Stiles isn’t a werewolf. There’s no way he can hear the way Derek’s heart jumps when he says things like that. “Listen dude,” Stiles pauses to grin at him, obviously expecting his glare at the word ‘dude’. “What do you say you just pretend the scene was abandoned when you got here alright? Do it for the good of the pack.” Stiles leans against the car, oblivious to the white spray paint sticking to his shirt. Derek wants to agree, wants to wrap his arms around Stiles and bury his face in his neck. Instead, he raise a single eyebrow.

“You want me to lie to  _your dad_  for ‘the pack’?” He asks, including air quotes and everything. Stiles’ scent change subtly, becoming warmer, richer with affection and maybe desire.

“I’ll buy you dinner?” He says, looking almost shy as he stares down at Derek’s boots. Derek can feel a smile threatening to break through, and he has to bite the insides of his cheeks to hold it in. He can do this. He can  _totally_  flirt back and make Stiles’ heart skip and his cheeks flush. He just needs to believe in himself.

“I don’t know,” he muses, tapping his fingers across the roof of the car. Stiles swallows, throat clicking, and Derek wants to  _bite_  at the tendons of his neck. “I’m thinking I might prefer some kind of instant gratification for this one…” He smirks at Stiles, and he  _knows_  his gaze is smoldering. Stiles’ eyes go big and wide, his heart tripping wildly. Derek thinks he’s won. But then Stiles throws his head back and fucking  _laughs_.

“That is the biggest lie I’ve ever heard Der,” he grins, crowding into Derek’s space. He can feel the little bit of control he had slipping away. Maybe he never even had it in the first place. “What do you think a therapist would say about me having a cop kink?” Stiles’ voice is low and rough as his long, god awful fingers toy with the buttons of Derek’s shirt. He can feel his dick start to harden already, even as he fights to continue scowling at Stiles. “Maybe it’s just a  _you_  ordering me around kink.” Stiles continues, pushing Derek back against the car. Derek’s heart feels like it’s going to jump right out of his chest. He knows he should push Stiles away, knows he should stop this before it starts. “So what do you say Der?” The crescent moon is reflected in Stiles’ liquid gold eyes and Derek just wants to stare into them forever. And maybe kiss that smirk right off those obnoxious lips. “You gonna let me bribe you? Or you gonna cuff me?”

Derek doesn’t think, just wraps an arm around Stiles and drags him closer, capturing his lips in a rough kiss. Stiles moans and part his lips, and Derek takes advantage of it, pushing his tongue into the heat of Stiles’ mouth. He tastes like coffee and peanut butter, and faintly of the cigarettes Derek knows he smokes sometimes. His body is firm and warm against his own, and Derek swears loudly when their clothed cocks brush through their pants. Derek bites at Stiles chin, licks along his jaw, connecting the moles with his tongue.

“I’ll cuff you later,” he whispers against Stiles’ ear. It sound like a promise, and he grins when Stiles’ hips buck and the scent of arousal in the air spikes.

“Fuck,” Stiles hisses, pulling at Derek’s hair and dragging him into a heady, desperate kiss.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles pants after a minute, his forehead resting against Derek’s. “I’m going to leave now, and you, you’re going to go back to the station.” Derek feels his lips slip into a pout, and he’s embarrassed until Stiles groans and kisses him again. “I’m a… I’m gonna go to your place okay? Because this is a thing that’s actually happening and I’m a little worried I might have made it up and-” Derek shuts him up with another kiss before pushing him gently away.

Stiles stumbles as he collects his cans of paint, but he still manages to shoot Derek a heated look over his shoulder as he retreats into the darkness.

He’s so, so fucked.

When Derek gets back to the station, Stilinski takes one look at him and drops his head into his hands.

“Oh hell,” he groans as Parrish bursts into  _very_  unprofessional giggles. “I don’t even want to know Hale. Just get out of here.” Derek frowns. He didn’t think he looked  _that_  debauched. He’d checked his reflection in the mirror and everything. “And just… get your uniform dry cleaned at least an hour out of town.” Derek lets a rush of air out of his nose as his cheeks start to heat up. This is  _all_  Stiles’ fault.

“You better hope nobody want us to try and match up ass prints Hale!” Parrish snickers as he stalks past him. Derek flips him off like the mature adult he is. Whatever.

It was totally worth it.

Stiles is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> Come hang out on [tumblr](http://werewolvesandarrows.tumblr.com)!


End file.
